


Unwrapped

by samyazaz



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Birthday Sex, F/M, Lingerie, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samyazaz/pseuds/samyazaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There aren't any wrapped boxes or gift bags in sight. Athelstan must look confused, because Ragnar takes pity on him by sticking gaudy ribbon bow to Lagertha's shirt, a little to one side like an oversized brooch. </p>
<p>They don't have to say anything else. Athelstan is already blushing so hard he can feel it, the prickling heat of it climbing up his throat like it's going to choke him, because whatever his present is, it seems bound to be dirty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwrapped

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lady_ragnell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell/gifts).



> Written for [lady_ragnell](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_ragnell)'s prompt "Vikings OT3, lingerie, presents, blushing".

It's Athelstan's birthday and Lagertha and Ragnar haven't even asked what he might want for it, so he's keeping his expectations low. It's not that they don't know it, because one of the first things Lagertha did when they started dating was demand to know all the important dates in his life so she could add them to her calendar, but they've only been going out for a few months and so he figures a modest celebration is on order. A card, a nice dinner out, maybe a gift card since they haven't really known each other long enough to have a good grasp of each other's tastes. He expects it will be quiet and cozy and that sounds just lovely to him.

When he gets the text on the evening of his birthday asking him to come over to their place after work, he smiles to himself and doesn't admit that he's already halfway there. He's got a key now so he lets himself in — and stops dead at the sight of a truly giant bouquet of balloons in bright colors, every one of them loudly proclaiming some variation of Happy Birthday.

The ends of the balloons are tied to a weight that keeps them from floating up to the ceiling, and the weight is taped to an envelope with his name on it. There's no card inside, though, no bright cartoony wishes for a happy birthday or reassurances that he's not getting older, he's just getting better. Inside, there's just a piece of paper with Lagertha's neat handwriting on it that says, _Come and find us._

It reminds him of the scavenger hunts they used to have at birthday parties when he was little, and makes him smile. The apartment's not large, and they're not trying very hard to hide. It takes him less than a minute to find them, when a quick circuit through all the rooms brings him to the bedroom.

Ragnar and Lagertha are both standing inside. "Happy birthday!" Ragnar says with a broad grin. Lagertha waits until Athelstan comes toward them to take him by the shoulders and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"You remembered." Athelstan beams happily at them.

"I'm a little insulted you thought we hadn't," Lagertha says, and pinches his arm for it. 

"It's just—"

"It's just that you've got this weird self-deprecation streak where you never expect anyone to do anything nice for you at all, I know." That's not true, and Athelstan frowns a little and starts to say so, but Lagertha continues before he can. "Come on and open your presents."

There aren't any wrapped boxes or gift bags in sight. Athelstan must look confused, because Ragnar takes pity on him by sticking gaudy ribbon bow to Lagertha's shirt, a little to one side like an oversized brooch. 

They don't have to say anything else. Athelstan is already blushing so hard he can feel it, the prickling heat of it climbing up his throat like it's going to choke him, because whatever his present is, it seems bound to be dirty.

Ragnar laughs, and Lagertha chuckles, a little softer. "There, now you've got the idea of it." She comes forward a few steps and takes Athelstan's hands in hers, leads them to her waist. "Come on, then. Unwrap it."

He does so slowly. It's not that they haven't done this before, because they have, frequently. But there's something strange and new about it when Lagertha's standing there egging him on, her eyes bright with anticipation. If Lagertha's his present and they want him to unwrap her, then there must be something special underneath, something beside just the strong lines and curves of her body.

And so he's a little unsurprised (but mostly he's very, _very_ surprised) when he pushes up the hem of her shirt and his fingers meet the slickness of satin and the roughness of lace, instead of just Lagertha's own soft skin. He makes a sound like the air's been punched out of him, and it must be a good sound because it makes Ragnar and Lagertha both grin fiercely.

"Go on," she urges him quietly. "Don't you want to see what it is?"

He can already see enough to know that it's probably going to kill him. It's bright red, peeking out from underneath her clothes, and when he pushes her shirt up higher she loses patience and catches the hem in her hands, peels it up over her head.

She's wearing a red lace-and-silk bustier that hides absolutely nothing. Wide lace panels let her skin peak through everywhere, and the cups are made of lace too, so he can see the pink of her nipples through it. He makes a sound again and reaches for her, his hand fitting to the side of her ribs, thumb stretched around just beneath the bustl ine, so daring it makes his breath catch in his throat.

Lagertha is smiling like the cat who got the cream, so pleased with herself, or maybe with him. "Do you like it?"

_Like_ hardly seems a strong enough word. He's going to die from it. But he hasn't finished opening it yet, she's still got her pants on, so he slips his hand from her ribs down to her waist and pulls at the button and fly.

He pushes them down, once he's got them open, and lets her steady herself with hands on his shoulders as she steps out of the pants, but he thinks maybe that was a mistake because he's feeling decidedly _un_ steady as he takes in the rest of her outfit, matching red lace panties and garters that stretch down to mid-thigh. He hovers a hand over her thigh and breathes, _"Lagertha,"_ like he's dying.

She smirks a little, smug, and she deserves to be because she's _incredible_ , she's a vision standing there in front of him and he wants to lose himself in her, and he doesn't dare touch her. "Ah," she says, knowingly, and her smile stretches. "You do. Good. I'd hoped you would."

"It's…" He struggles to make his voice work. "Lagertha, you're incredible."

Her smile stretches. "Thank you," she says, and reels him in for a kiss that he thinks is going to be a prelude to more, but after a moment, just when he's getting breathless with it, she pulls away and gives him a little push on his shoulder to turn him from her. "Aren't you going to open your other present?"

He's confused for a moment because Lagertha like this is gift enough, but then he realizes she's turned him to face Ragnar, and Ragnar is standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and a broad grin stretched across his face, the gleeful anticipation of someone who knows their gift is going to be well-received. "Oh," Athelstan breathes, and reaches for him, overcome by the thought.

When he pulls Ragnar's shirt up, there's only bare skin beneath it, tanned and muscular and highly distracting. Athelstan slides a hand over his stomach, enjoying it and him before Ragnar shifts beneath his touch. "Go on. I'm not properly unwrapped yet."

The ferocity of his grin, and the way Lagertha is hovering beside them grinning just as hard, makes Athelstan wary. To give him a chance to get his bearings back, he steps in and lifts up onto his toes to take Ragnar's mouth in a kiss as he works at the front of his pants.

Ragnar hums a pleased sound against his mouth and curves a hand around the back of his neck, holding him firmly.

Athelstan knows what to do with himself like this, and he might be tempted to let himself be distracted by it for a little while, just until he's gotten his feet back under him. But when the front of Ragnar's pants gapes open, it's not the soft, serviceable cotton and elastic of his usual boxers that meets Athelstan's touch.

He draws back to look. Ragnar, ever the impatient one between the three of them, shimmies his pants off all on his own, and it's just as well, because Athelstan's struck too dumb to be any help to him.

Ragnar's wearing underwear to match Lagertha's. His are more satin than lace, but they're red and high-cut and tight, and they've got a tiny ribbon bow at the front that makes Athelstan choke a bubble of hysterical laughter into his hand. "Oh my god."

"He likes it," Ragnar says, and nudges Lagertha with his elbow. He looks proud enough that it occurs to Athelstan to reconsider whose idea this was in the first place.

"Are you going to actually play with your presents?" Lagertha asks with a laugh in her voice. She takes one of his hands in hers and brings it to her stomach. She guides his other to Ragnar, to rest low on his hip. "You wouldn't want to give the wrong impression about whether or not you really like it or are just humoring us, would you?"

It's such an absurd notion that Athelstan can only shake his head. There isn't anything they could give him that he wouldn't like, and that he wouldn't like _this_ … Ragnar may tease him about having a not-so-latent puritanical streak, but Athelstan would have to be dead to not like them like this.

It's not in his nature to be the aggressor, but they've both been uncharacteristically passive and patient today, and Lagertha specifically invited him to _play_ with his presents, so he finds it in himself to push her back toward the bed. She goes, grinning, and climbs up on it backwards while Athelstan follows and pulls Ragnar along with fingers curled through the elastic waist of his panties.

Ragnar catches him about the waist and lifts him, then tumbles onto the bed with him, and Athelstan is laughing, limbs tangling with theirs, a little dizzy with all the heat and skin and satin around him. It only gets more overwhelming when Lagertha and Ragnar gang up on him, holding him down and stripping his clothes from him until suddenly he's the least-dressed one in the room. When he's naked, he rolls Lagertha onto her back and kisses her, biting at her lips the way she likes as he trails a hand over the lingerie that she bought and wore for his benefit.

His hand finds its way down to the narrow strip of her stomach that's exposed between the edge of the bustier and the waist of her panties. He strokes his fingers over it, relishing the contrasting textures, until she makes a sharp sound against his mouth and pushes her hips up in clear demand. He smiles against her mouth and slides his fingers down.

Her panties are mostly lace where Ragnar's are mostly satin, and he can feel the heat of her through them. He slides his touch underneath and finds her wet and waiting for him. She throws her head back with a gasp when he slides two fingers into the heat of her, and when Ragnar presses a condom into Athelstan's hand he's too busy being grateful to marvel at his mind-reading abilities.

Getting Lagertha out of the lingerie is a process. The garters keep everything pretty firmly in place, and he has to unclip them and let them dangle in order to get her panties off. He briefly considers just ripping them off — it's something Ragnar would do, without hesitation — but discards that thought almost immediately. He like them, and wants her to be able to wear them again.

When her panties are gone (and Ragnar's taken them from him with a laugh to fling them across the room, because Athelstan was going to fold them and set them aside neatly and apparently that's not allowed) Athelstan slides his hand up Lagertha's hip to her bustier and toys with the lace edging there. "Can you breathe in that?" he asks dubiously.

She grins and pushes her hips up against his hand, urging him back down lower. "I can breathe just fine. A little exertion isn't going to kill me, if that's what you're worried about."

It is, and he's glad to ear it, though he remains skeptical. Lagertha doesn't lie, though, not ever about anything, so he takes her at her word and stretches out above her so e can lean in for a kiss.

Ragnar laughs at him and says something about letting himself get distracted. He takes the condom from Athelstan's hand and pushes lightly on his hips, urging him to twist at the waist.

It's awkward positioning, but Athelstan does so without breaking away from the kiss. When Ragnar's fingers slide over his cock, rolling the condom into place, he groans against her mouth.

Ragnar strokes him twice, then leans in and steals a lick, a quick flash of heat that makes Athelstan gasp against Lagertha's mouth. She breaks away and smiles up at him, then grins over his shoulder. "He's misbehaving, isn't he?"

"He's—" Athelstan's voice gives out when Ragnar takes him fully into the heat of his mouth. _"Fuck._ He's cheating."

Ragnar pulls off of him with another teasing lick."Cheating implies the existence of rules."

"I wanted to—" Athelstan has to squeeze his eyes shut and focus as Ragnar takes him in hand again, stroking him easily. "I want to fuck her. You're going to make me come if you keep that up."

Lagertha laughs quietly and glides a hand up the side of his neck and into his hair. "Already?"

He blushes again and ducks his head. "You look really good in that."

Her smile is broad and warm and pleased. "Thank you. I'd hoped you'd like it." She uses her hand in his hair to turn his head, guiding him into a kiss. "Fuck me, Athelstan. It's your birthday, that means you get what you want. We'll take care of Ragnar together after."

Ragnar seems perfectly happy with that plan, stretching out beside Lagertha and watching Athelstan with a hooded gaze. Athelstan ducks his head again, because it's strange for all three of them to be together and everyone's attention to be on him instead of shared between them. Lagertha shifts her hips on the bed like she's settling into a comfortable spot, then lifts a knee, making room for him.

Ragnar turns Lagertha's face toward him as Athelstan gets into position, and he's kissing her but his eyes are open and fixed on Athelstan. When Athelstan slides into her, slow and easy, Ragnar swallows the sigh off her lips and slips a hand up to knead at her breast.

She's hot and eager around him, and Athelstan shudders as sets up an easy rhythm, gliding in and out. He watches her face as he moves, the way she bites at Ragnar's lips and moans into his mouth when Athelstan bottoms out, the way she curves the fingers of one hand into Athelstan's shoulder, gripping tight, and uses the other to grab on to Ragnar's bicep, linking them all together.

Ragnar pulls back, ending the kiss slowly and just watching Lagertha's face for a moment before he twists and kisses Athelstan instead. Athelstan hums against his lips and hitches into Lagertha a little harder when Ragnar's beard scrapes across his mouth. Ragnar swallows his noises easily and murmurs filthy encouragement into the kiss until it's all Athelstan can do to moan and bury himself in Lagertha a little faster, a little harder.

It feels like it barely takes him a minute before the heat's wrapping tight through him and he has to break away from their kisses and press his face against Lagertha's throat as his hips hitch and he comes inside her, shaking with the force of it and making strangled little noises against her skin. She pets his hair and holds him close like she doesn't mind that he came before she could, and when he slides out of her she reaches down to take care of the condom before he can rouse himself enough to do so.

Athelstan sprawls at her side, breathing warm against her throat and enjoying the closeness to her. When she makes a sudden, sharp sound and her hand tightens in his hair, he blinks his eyes open and looks down. A jolt goes through him at the sight of Ragnar's face buried between her legs, his fingers curled on her hips to lift her up against his mouth.

Ragnar is enthusiastic and relentless. Athelstan kisses her and slips a hand beneath her bustier to rub and pinch at her nipples, and she comes violently with a cry against Athelstan's mouth and a hand gripped tight in Ragnar's hair.

Ragnar drives her on, his mouth working at her until she shoves at his shoulder with a knee and drags him off of her. Then he climbs up the bed and flops down beside them in a sprawl, one arm and a leg thrown over both of them possessively.

Lagertha's only just come, her skin still flushed and sweaty and her breath still ragged, and Athelstan's already starting to recover some of his faculties, so he lets her lie there and recover for a moment while he maneuvers himself, rolling Ragnar over onto his back with a hand on his shoulder and slides down.

Ragnar's erection strains the skimpy cut of his panties, pulling at the material. Athelstan hooks his fingers beneath the waist and eases them down Ragnar's legs, letting his cock free. He leaves them there, caught around Ragnar's thighs, pleased by the idea of Ragnar being just a little bit hobbled as Athelstan leans in and laps up the bead of moisture oozing from the tip of Ragnar's cock.

The sound Ragnar makes is rough and desperate and he twists, struggling to get out of the panties until Athelstan straddles his legs and sits on them, pinning him down so he can bend over and take more of Ragnar into his mouth. Lagertha holds his shoulders down and kisses him, then leaves a trail of kisses down his chest and across his stomach. 

When Athelstan pulls off of Ragnar's cock to catch his breath, Lagertha takes over for him without missing a beat. Her hair falls forward, a blonde cascade that hides everything from Athelstan's view, so he gathers her hair up in his hands so he can watch her sucking him off from up close. 

They trade kisses between strokes. The sounds Ragnar makes turn sharper and more demanding when they do. When Athelstan opens his eyes, Ragnar's watching them, staring at them like he wants to eat them both alive. 

Athelstan makes a show of it, a little bit, for Ragnar's benefit. Lagertha grins against his mouth and takes her cue from him, kissing him filthily, both of them dipping down to lick and suck at Ragnar's cock until they're blowing him together and Ragnar's growling like he's going to come apart at the seams, heels dug deep into the mattress, hips arching up off the bed in demand. 

He's close, so Athelstan leaves off kissing Lagertha and swallows him down to the base, while Lagertha spreads her hands low across Ragnar's stomach and helps to hold his hips to the bed, so he won't choke Athelstan as he thrashes.

He comes with a roar, and the heady pulse of come on the back of Athelstan's tongue, bitter and sharp and _Ragnar._ Athelstan swallows it and pulls his mouth off of Ragnar's cock with a few final licks to ease him back down, and before he can even climb up the bed to lie with them, Lagertha's got a hand on the back of his neck and her mouth on his, kissing him, licking the taste of Ragnar's spend from his lips.

They sprawl out in a limp tangle, Lagertha and Ragnar shifting around until Athelstan is between both of them. Ragnar finally kicks his panties off and throws a leg over Athelstan's, pinning him down with his weight and his warmth. Athelstan runs a lazy touch over the textures of Lagertha's bustier and thinks that he ought to get her out of it before they all succumb to sleep, but that lethargic exhaustion is already pulling him down and he can't quite manage to make his fingers work.

Lagertha kisses him sweetly while Ragnar nuzzles close from behind, his breath warm on Athelstan's ear. "Happy birthday," they both murmur, like they choreographed it.

Athelstan grins, dopey with sleep. "You guys are the best present ever."

They hum and seem content with that, and Athelstan's just sliding into sleep when he hears Lagertha murmur, as though from a distance, "We're going to have to figure out something even better for next year."

A shiver steals through Athelstan. If they manage to outdo themselves, he's not sure he's going to survive it.


End file.
